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The blood of my motherland waters a magic plant that cures all ills. That plant is art, and sometimes art needs corruption as a kind of fertilizer
Alfred de Musset
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Alfred de Musset
Age: 46 †
Born: 1810
Born: December 11
Died: 1857
Died: May 2
Chess Composer
Dramatist
Librarian
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Paris
France
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay
Alfred De Musset
Louis Charles Alfred Musset
Alfred de Musset-Pathay
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset
Kind
Corruption
Plant
Magic
Blood
Motherland
Water
Fertilizer
Art
Ills
Sometimes
Waters
Needs
Cures
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Repartee is altogether a natural endowment, and is the lightning of the mind.
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Vanity and dignity are incompatible with each other vain women are almost sure to be vulnerable.
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I can't help it, the idea of the infinite torments me.
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The most despairing songs are the most beautiful, and I know some immortal ones that are pure tears.
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The soft contralto notes of a woman's voice are born in the immediate region of the heart.
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The heart that once has been your shrine for other loves is too divine
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It is easy to promise, and alas! How easy to forget!
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Know that there is often hidden in us a dormant poet, always young and alive.
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Doubt, if you will, the being who loves you, Woman or dog, but never doubt love itself.
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I could not clearly distinguish what was passing in my head it seemed to me that I was under the influence of a horrible dream and that I had but to awake to find myself cured at times it seemed that my entire life had been a dream, ridiculous and childish, the falseness of which had just been disclosed.
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The fumes of wine fermented in my head it was one of those moments of intoxication when all that ones sees and hears, speaks to one of the adored.... One would willingly embrace all who smile, and one feels that he is brother of all who live.
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How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception.
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Experience is the name men give to their follies or their sorrows.
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Disgrace is the synonym of discovery.
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Great artists have no country.
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The only true language in the world is a kiss.
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I cannot help it - in spite of myself, infinity torments me.
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Happiness may have but one night, as glory but one day.
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Take time as it comes, the wind as it blows, woman as she is.
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